


Stiles Stilinski: Ultimate Bi-Spy

by CosmoKid



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Asshole Rafael McCall, Attempt at Humor, BAMF Melissa McCall, Canon Compliant, Chemistry, Coming Out, Demons, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Homophobic Language, Kidnapping, M/M, Post-Season/Series 02, Sheriff Stilinski is a Good Parent, Sirens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-04 00:19:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12759231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmoKid/pseuds/CosmoKid
Summary: “Dude, I did not sign up to this plan,” he starts, but Jackson interrupts him.“Stilinski can’t act,” he scoffs, leaning back in his chair.“I’ve been pretending to be straight for years now and you didn’t seem to notice,” he retorts without thinking, but he grins when Jackson chokes on air. “Yeah, Leo, where’s my Oscar for acting like a straight person? It's been absolute torture.”Or nine times Stiles accidentally came out and the one time he didn't have to.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> idek what this is
> 
> i got a lot of these ideas from tumblr posts and it was like three am when i finished it
> 
>  
> 
> honestly, the first chapter is the real story. anything after that is just me adding things to it when im inspired and procrastinating my college work.

1\. Scott (and Melissa)

Scott’s Dad is a dick.

He’s a complete and utter dick. He’s the kind of person who would execute a hit and run on a nun and run over three puppies in the process and be proud of it. He’s the type of person that even Peter Hale would call arrogant. He’s the most irritating person Stiles has ever met and Stiles has gone to school with Jackson since they were in elementary school together.

And of course, he’s back. Why wouldn’t that douchecanoe come back just after the thing with Gerard and the kanima finally finished? Apparently, he’s concerned about Scott’s school performance as if he’s ever cared about his son.

Stiles isn’t exactly entirely happy with Scott right now with the whole not telling Stiles about the plan thing and using Derek plan thing, but the idea of Rafael McCall trying to be in his son’s life again is enough for them to ignore the slowly dissipating tension between them. The guy was an abusive husband, an abusive Father, and nothing but a drunken mess and now he’s also an FBI agent apparently.

He was hoping he’d be able to avoid Scott’s Dad for the rest of his life and he was hoping Scott would be able to avoid Scott’s Dad for the rest of his life as well. Apparently, life has other ideas.

The two of them are trying to bond a bit more after the whole kanima and Gerard thing when Rafael walks in and joins them in the lounge without asking. Melissa is sitting on one side of the sofa and watching some soap opera with little interest while Scott and Stiles are sat at the dining table working on the ridiculous amount of work Harris has given them for the summer. 

Harris is the only person Stiles can think of who could maybe match Rafael McCall in level of dickishness.

Said dick also keeps interrupting them with stupid, ludicrous and unnecessary remarks about the soap opera that are slowly making Stiles’ blood boil more and more until he can use it to melt tungsten. Stiles can now add sexist, racist, transphobic, classist and climate change denier to the list of why Rafael McCall should be the first person to walk on the sun. 

He has absolutely no idea how Scott isn’t wolfed out and bloodthirsty right now or how Rafael McCall managed to end up an FBI agent. It makes Stiles reconsider his own dreams of joining the FBI one day.

“Why do they even need to show this on TV?” Rafael whines, interrupting Stiles’ thoughts of how he’s seething with impotent rage because of this guy.

“Show what on TV?” Scott asks politely, looking up from his chemistry work for a second. His voice is strained still, no matter how neutral of a tone he can manage.

“ _Faggots,_ ” Rafael snarls and Stiles tenses up. He grits his teeth and stares hard at the titration equation. “All these gay people or lesbians or whatever. They’re disgusting and I shouldn’t have to watch them on television.”

Stiles takes a deep breath and clenches his free hand into a fist as he tries to calm down in the slightest bit. He really wants to stab Scott’s Dad in the eye with his pencil right now.

“It’s ridiculous. What happened to the good old days when men were men and women were women? When we didn’t have all these fairies and feminists? It’s insanity. And don’t get me started on these bi people. Attention-seeking morons. Just pick a gender and stick with it,” Rafael continues and Stiles has to bite his tongue so hard he tastes blood so he doesn’t scream at him. He can feel Scott’s concerned gaze on him. “They’re all going to go hell anyway.”

He doesn’t even register that he’s up and out of his seat and across the room until Scott speaks up, “Dude, where are you going?”

“Hell apparently.”

The comment just flies out of his mouth and he doesn’t regret it. It does shock him though and his own eyes widen at his own remark. This is not how he imagined he’d come out to Scott. He keeps walking until he reaches the door and grabs the handle a little tightly.

“Stiles, stay,” Melissa says in a strong enough voice that Stiles pauses and turns to look back at the McCalls. Scott is staring at him with a bit of shock, but also some form of admiration and amusement while Melissa looks angry and also proud. Rafael, on the other hand, looks disgusted and uncomfortable. “You’ve come out once today, you don’t need to go out again.”

He snorts and grins at Melissa who flashes him a smile of her own before her face becomes absolutely apocalyptic as she looks at her own ex-husband. “I think it’s time that you leave and I’d recommend you don’t come back if you know what’s good for you.”

“You, you’re asking me to leave, but you’re letting this, this _queer_ stay? Over your own family?” Rafael exclaims aggressively. His expression is indignant and Stiles has never seen anyone look so offended at being called out on their bullshit. “Scott?”

“Stiles is family, you’re not,” Scott says firmly. “No one wants you here.”

“Fine,” Rafael barks after a few moments of angry silence. Stiles jumps away from the door as the dick in question gets up and storms towards the door. “I wouldn’t want to be in a house with a faggot anyway.”

“It’s not contagious, dude,” Stiles says and rolls his eyes. “And I’m not even a faggot. I know there’s no slur for bi since people were too busy denying our existence to come up with a fathomable insult, but that doesn’t mean you have to mislabel me so you feel a bit better about your own shitty life and so you feel a tiny bit more validated in your frankly ludicrous views of the world.”

“I think that might be too many words for his tiny brain to comprehend, Stiles,” Melissa says in a mischievous tone as Rafael huffs and continues to storm out of the house, slamming the door after him. “Now, what do you boys want for dinner?”

“Stiles probably wants some _bi_ son,” Scott says and Stiles decides that this is much better than how he imagined he’d come out to Scott.

 

2\. Allison

“Stiles, no offense, but I’d be a much better young adult protagonist than you,” Allison tells him firmly as they sit around pretending to be doing their English homework. They’re meant to be doing some kind of paired project about the evolution of the young adult genre, but instead, they’re arguing about the young adult genre.

It started about what the best young adult book and then it became an argument about whether the young adult genre is good and then it became an argument about who the best young adult protagonist is and then it became an argument about how to best avoid Mary Sues in the young adult genre and then it became an argument about who would make the best young adult protagonist which is their current argument. There has been evolution in their conversations, just not the one Miss Brownstree wanted.

“How?” he asks and throws his pen down onto his notebook. “I’m the one here with a ridiculous first name that no one can pronounce. I fit right in with the Uriahs and Haymitches!”

“They’re side characters,” Allison remarks and he just rolls his eyes. “And names aren’t the most important thing! I have the traits of a protagonist. I’m good at archery, I’m outspoken, I’ve been morally dubious and I’ve got a tragic family history.”

“Okay, calm down Katniss Everdeen,” he says hotly and Allison just laughs. “And I’ve got a tragic family history as well dude and I’m outspoken and I’ve also been morally dubious. I’m also the underdog who shows up in the eleventh hour!”

“You say that as if the eleventh-hour miracle isn’t the most irritating young adult trope ever!” she argues and he can’t disagree. He also completely hates that trope. “I’m a hunter heiress, Stiles. I’d clearly make a better protagonist. I’m practically royalty and royalty is one of the biggest themes in Narnia.”

“It’s dubious whether Narnia is young adult fiction, Ally. I could easily argue that it’s a children’s book,” he says and her face scrunches up as she evaluates his words. “And anyway, I’ve got a much bigger chance of being crowned Prince of Narnia considering I’ve spent so much time in the closet I basically live there.”

Allison freezes for a second, and Stiles tenses when he realizes what he’s said. His eyes widen and he feels like a deer in the headlights of a goddamn monster truck.

“Stiles,” Allison starts in a soft tone. “Did you just-?”

“Come out to you as bi? Yep, yep. I did, I actually did. Dude,” he says, stumbling over his own words in his hushed panic to get them out. “Surprisingly, that’s not even the weirdest thing that’s happened today since instead of doing our project, we’ve been arguing about the young adult genre for the past half hour.”

“Yeah, we should probably get back to that,” she says with a grin. “But only after I get to hug you.”

 

3\. Lydia

“So what you’re saying is that we’re all going to die?” he asks Derek, staring at him with a plain look on his face.

They’re having a tentative pack meeting, as in they’re not quite pack, but there’s some big bad that’s more important than Scott and Derek’s pissing contest so they’re pretending to be. This week’s big bad is some all-powerful voodoo witch thing that can apparently kill them all by basically flicking their wrist. Fun times.

“No,” Derek growls and Stiles just rolls his eyes. He has no idea why the werewolves around him seem to want to fit the stereotype of a werewolf perfectly, but it’s eternally entertaining. Especially with how cute Derek looks when his eyebrows scrunch up in confused anger. “I’m saying the witch is dangerous.”

“I uh, I think we got that by the fact that almost all the uh mountain lions nearby died immediately after they settled,” Isaac says weakly and cowers in on himself a little when Derek growls again. Erica rubs his shoulder and Boyd knocks into him a little at the action.

“So how do we kill an all-powerful witch?” Erica questions in a much quieter voice than he’s used to. She’s definitely calmed down a lot from when she first took the bite.

“We don’t,” Stiles tells her with the kind of smile that says _I’m dying on the inside, but look at how much I can smile no matter how strained it is_.

“Stiles, can you even try to be a little positive?” Scott asks in a murmur, but he looks as lost as Stiles has been voicing. He’s the only one who seems to be willing to admit that they might be at least fish, if not beluga whales out of water with this one.

“Dude, I already have eighty-three protons,” he replies automatically and Scott just stares at him like he’s insane.

“Isn’t that a little greedy?” Lydia asks him in a curt voice and he turns to look at her. She has an amused look on her face with one perfectly manicured eyebrow raised to go with her smirk. “Can’t you just pick one and stick with it?”

“I’m like a pendulum, Lyds, I swing back and forth eternally,” he says and Lydia just smiles at him approvingly. 

“If you two are finished having your unnecessary scientific discussion, can we get back to the actually important thing?” Jackson asks crossly and Stiles just continues to grin alongside Lydia who pushes her hair behind her ear and smiles blindingly at her boyfriend. She does, however, reach across to squeeze Stiles’ hand which just makes him grin wider.

 

4\. The Sheriff

Watching Wanted with his Dad is an interesting experience and he’s not sure why he’d suggested this movie for the bi-weekly Stilinski movie nights. They normally go for cliché action movies or horror movies that are basically as tame as a pug compared to what he’s seen in the past few months. Most monsters just aren’t scary when you’ve helped to kidnap and subdue a super-fast lizard with a paralytic toxin in its tail. It makes the horror movies more funny than scary. It’s why he normally suggests them.

He doesn’t know why he suggested Wanted this week. There are some absolutely horribly awkward moments where he’s kept his eyes locked on the screen and pretended he doesn’t have peripheral vision because it’s not the best movie to watch with your Dad.

And the whole weave thing is an interesting concept, but clearly not one his Dad is buying into if his humps of displeasure have been anything to go by. It is a little bit of a stretch even with Stiles’ suspension of disbelief. 

At least Angelina Jolie’s pretty. That’s a plus maybe. But then so is James McAvoy and it’s surprisingly difficult to keep a straight face when something happens that reminds him so much of just how bi he is.

He still hasn’t come out to his Dad and he’d rather do it verbally rather than his Dad decoding it through Stiles’ facial expressions. So he sits quietly and determinedly watches the movie with a straight face.

Well, he tries. 

“You really are gay,” his Dad says in a shocked voice and Stiles’ head snaps up to look at his Dad. He has absolutely no idea where that came from. “Even dressed like that.”

“Uh,” he says eloquently as his mouth falls open and he stares at his Dad with wide eyes. “What?”

“You stared at James McCavoy and said, and I quote, _he is so pretty_ ,” his Dad tells him and Stiles just bites his lip and nods. He should really work on developing a brain-to-mouth filter. “I assume that’s your own way of coming out as gay even if your fashion choices haven’t really gotten any better.”

“I’m bi, I have an excuse,” he says hurriedly and his Dad just snorts. 

“That doesn’t excuse the atrocity of some of your outfits,” the sheriff tells him and he just nods. Even he knows his outfits are bad. “Although I suppose I should have seen it coming with the amount of plaid you wear.”

“Is this what I’m going to get now? Nothing but bad jokes about being queer?” he asks and rolls his eyes, but he grins at his Dad. “I have to warn you though, you won’t beat me in the number of puns I can make about it.” 

His Dad just smirks and Stiles knows what that smirk means. “I just can’t believe I have a bi son, I thought buffalo were an endangered species.”

He groans and puts his head in his hands. He shakes his head and sighs. “Scott already made that joke, Dad. There are a _bi_ -llion other puns you can make. I’m sure you can _come out_ with them _bi_ yourself.”

His Dad groans this time, but he wrestles Stiles into a one-armed hug which he leans into with a smile on his face.

 

5\. Erica

Shopping is officially Stiles’ worst enemy.

Scrap werewolves, kanimas, all-powerful voodoo witches, Gerard Argent and Stiles’ own tendency to say horribly awkward things at the complete wrong time, shopping is his arch nemesis.

He will never understand why it’s enjoyable in anyway. For him, it’s just walking around a mall looking at things he can’t afford and wondering what it would be like to be Jackson Whittemore for a day. And then when he shops with other people, he becomes a walking storage facility that can’t answer any useful questions when asked.

Shopping with Lydia for the winter formal had been an absolute nightmare. She looked pretty in every outfit and he just didn’t know what else to say. Apparently, he’d been useless and apparently, he should have known that some colour that he doesn’t even remember is totally last season. 

The only seasons he cares about is how many of them he can marathon in one day or one week. The answer is normally at least one a day.

Shopping with Scott is just as worse, but for completely different reasons. Scott seems to struggle to understand that the two of them are both poor and therefore, they don’t have much money. It doesn’t stop Scott from loading a basket full of way too expensive games that they have to slowly put back on the walk of shame.

Although, if he thought shopping with Lydia and Scott is a nightmare, shopping with Erica is parasomnia.

She’s just so forceful and so determined and it’s like following in the wake of a hurricane. They’re using Derek’s credit card so she has a never ending sea of money and that just makes it so much worse. He’s been in at least six shops and Erica has tried on so many outfits that Stiles isn’t certain he isn’t just in a nightmare after, for some reason, marathoning four seasons of America’s Next Top Model.

And again, she looks good in every outfit and so, he has no idea as to what to say. She just looks nice and the clothes look nice on her and it just looks nice. He doesn’t know what else to say.

“Do these boots look good with this skirt, Stiles?” Erica asks him as he sits slumped over on the bench as she tries on what must be the hundredth outfit. This time, she’s in a lacy white tank top with a high waisted black skater skirt and thigh high boots. She looks pretty and it suits her. It goes pretty well with the blood red lipstick she’s wearing.

“You look good,” he says and gives her a thumbs up. She rolls her eyes and huffs.

“That doesn’t tell me whether or not the boots look good with the skirt. Does the outfit work? It’s a simple question, Batman,” Erica says and he just shrugs. He has _no idea_ what to say.

“I don’t know Erica,” he sighs and leans against the wall behind him. “Just because I’m queer doesn’t mean I’m good with fashion.”

They both freeze when he says it. Erica’s eyes widen and she stares at him with scrunched eyebrows. His own eyes widen and his mouth falls open, _again._ He really needs to stop accidentally coming out to all of his friends without realising he’s saying things.

“Bi?” Erica asks and he nods cautiously. A blinding grin grows on her face and she hums. “That explains a lot, actually, when I look back now. Especially with Derek.”

“What?” he asks, a little too quickly based on the way she smirks at it. Although that might be his heart running like a scared rabbit in his chest. “What do you mean with Derek? There’s nothing with Derek? Other than reluctant allies and even then it’s super reluctant. Derek looks like he wants to murder me with his eyebrows at least once a conversation.”

“I’ll let you figure that out yourself, Batman,” Erica tells him with a mischievous look on her face. He rolls his eyes and leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees. “Now, tell me, do these boots look good with this skirt?”

He huffs and rolls his eyes again. “Erica, honey, I’m crystal queer that I know jackshit about fashion.”

 

6\. Jackson

“So the plan is to pretend to be junior interns at a made up business firm trying to make connections in order to cozy up to the witch doctors so we can figure out what they’re doing?” Stiles repeats, staring at Scott with a disbelieving look on his face.

He almost regrets not taking Erica up on her offer to include Derek’s pack in this.

“Yes,” Scott says determinedly and even Allison is looking at him like he’s insane. Then again, Allison is a much more rational person than her boyfriend. Stiles is fairly certain she’d probably be on the confront-the-witch-doctors side rather than the befriend-the-witch-doctors side if he asked.

“Dude,” he says, about to launch onto a long-ass rant about the moronic, unfathomable stupidity of the plan when Lydia interrupts him in a curt and cutting voice.

“And who will the junior interns be?” she asks in a sweet voice that sends shivers down his spine. “It has to be believable. I don’t mean to cause any offense, but we need someone who can think quickly on the spot and is able to talk about working in a business and I doubt everyone here can do that.”

“Then you and Stiles can be the junior interns,” Scott decides and carries on in a rushed voice before either of them can protest and Stiles is just itching to protest. “The two of you have the highest grades in Econ and you’re quick thinkers. Both of you can seem professional enough and you’re both good at building rapport.” 

Well, that is bullshit because Stiles can’t be professional if he tries and he’s definitely not good at building rapport. He rants and rambles until someone listens because they can’t stand to hear his voice anymore. That is not rapport.

“Well, okay then,” Lydia says instead of protesting which rules out Stiles’ first plan to get out of it. No one can argue with Lydia; Lydia could be her own lawyer and get herself off from murder charges just by talking to the jury even if the prosecution’s evidence was a video of Lydia killing the victim with acrylic nails.

“Dude, I did not sign up to this plan,” he starts, but Jackson interrupts him.

“Stilinski can’t act,” he scoffs, leaning back in his chair.

“I’ve been pretending to be straight for years now and you didn’t seem to notice,” he retorts without thinking, but he grins when Jackson chokes on air. “Yeah, Leo, where’s my Oscar for acting like a straight person? It's been absolute torture.”

“I hate it to break it to you, Stiles, but actors don’t normally break character when they get angry,” Scott tells him with a lopsided grin and Stiles just throws his pen at him, good-naturedly.

“You say that as if my performance then didn’t have a dramatic flair to it.” He waves off Scott’s comment with some twirly flick of his wrist. “Besides, my performance clearly elicited a strong reaction from the audience. You saw how your douche of a Dad reacted.”

Jackson slowly comes back to himself as they speak and seems to go through all five stages of grief while doing so before his eyebrows knit together and he, honest to God, pouts. “You’re still a shitty actor, Stilinski.”

 

7\. Boyd

“Stiles,” Boyd greets, sliding into the seat opposite him. They’re in the library and Stiles is pretending to not notice the weird looks he’s getting as he scours an ancient, leather-bound book in Old Persian for mentions of ducks because apparently this is his life now.

“Boyd,” he says, not looking up from the book as he flips the page and starts again with his duck searching. He’s spent his free period looking and now he’s into lunch doing the same and after scouring around a hundred and fifty pages, he still hasn’t found anything. “What can I do for you, buddy?”

From the corner of his eye, he can see Boyd re-evaluating his decision to sit with Stiles as he watches him stare angrily at the book. He just can’t find ducks anywhere. “Have you finished Harris’ homework yet?”

“I haven’t even looked at it, my guy,” Stiles confesses and finally looks up to meet Boyd’s eyes. “Is it as bad as I’m imagining because I’m imagining a flaming dumpster fire full of rotting corpses, dirty nappies and mouldy, soggy sandwiches.”

“That’s a nice image,” Boyd says in a quiet, slightly shell-shocked voice and Stiles just grins at him with all of his teeth. He probably looks as insane as he feels in this current moment. “It’s probably as bad as you’re imagining. I don’t even know where to start.”

“Has Scott done it?” he questions, glancing back down to scour the current page for mentions of duck even if he’s fairly certain it’s futile. There’s just no ducks anywhere in the book. When he glances back up, Boyd is giving him a plain look full of disbelief. “Of course he hasn’t, has Lydia done it?”

“Probably, but she’s not in school today,” Boyd tells him, reminding him that Lydia is off wandering around the crime scenes trying to get a sense of what killed the people. Literally all they’ve got is that there’s something to do with ducks.

His life is surreal.

“I can take a look at it if you want?” Stiles offers and Boyd nods gratefully, pulling the crumpled up sheet out of his bag. There are so many words on it and Stiles already wants to die. _Fucking Harris._ “But you’ve got to continue looking for ducks in this book if I’m going to find something useful by the time Derek inevitably calls a pack meeting tonight. The word for duck looks like this.”

He pushes the book over to Boyd as well as his slip of paper with the duck on it. There’s a little cartoon duck in the corner that he’d doodled during Algebra. He takes Boyd’s homework in return, not sure if he’s grateful for the exchange or not.

“That, I can do,” Boyd says and Stiles lets out a small laugh. There’s something bizarrely nice about knowing it’s not just him who loses all sense of understanding, logic and comprehension when he’s presented with Harris’ work.

Reading over the work, Stiles gets the immediate feeling again. He’s fairly certain Harris has to be some kind of supernatural creature or shares at least Christian Grey level of sadism. There are four questions in all and he gets through the first three without that much difficulty compared to how much his head normally hurts when he sits in Harris’ work. It’s just horribly difficult. And the scenarios aren’t even remotely creative or interesting. Harris seems intent of only ever using cliché white boy names and slightly misogynistic wording.

“Why is Harris’ work always so straight?” he mumbles, staring hard at the words of the last question. He has no idea where to go with this one. “The guy is so heteronormative. It’s like he’s never entertained the idea that there’s a bi kid sitting in his class wishing Gerard Argent had just killed him in the basement so he never has to think of chemistry again.”

“Well, that was an unsurprisingly bizarre way to come out, but you didn’t really need to,” Boyd replies in a monotone voice. Stiles raises his eyebrows; he’s not that surprised that he accidentally came out to someone considering this is the seventh time he’s done it. “Erica told me.”

“Traitor,” he says under his breath and Boyd just snorts.

“It’s Erica and you came out to her as a way to get out of shopping, what did you think would happen?” he question and Stiles just shrugs. “I thought you were supposed to be the smart one.”

 

8\. Isaac

“Sirens?” he asks, staring at Isaac and Jackson with wides eyes and a gaping mouth. Talk about things that he should have been told before being brought on a pack mission. “You don’t think that was important information to tell me before we got here? Preferably before you dragged me out on whatever this excursion is?”

“You wouldn’t have come with us if we told you,” Jackson grunts and Stiles just stares at him with an exasperated look on his face.

“Bullshit,” he exclaims and rolls his eyes, waving his hands in the air a little. “Have you even met me? Of course, I would have come with you, I would have just done a bunch of research before because hello, sirens! Do you even know how to deal with sirens?”

Isaac just holds up his claws with a wicked grin and Stiles groans. He’s literally in a makeshift pack with some of the most dramatic ass werewolves and it’s blindingly ridiculous. 

“Great idea, jackass, do you actually know that werewolf claws can hurt sirens?” he questions and both werewolves just shrug their shoulders.

“They haven’t failed me yet,” Isaac says as if that’s a good experimental model. Stiles can say that about giving people cakes with nuts in them, but eventually, he’s going to hurt someone with a nut allergy.

“I can’t believe you guys haven’t died yet from your own stupidity,” he grumbles and gets clocked around the back of the head in response. “And anyway, if you guys have some master plan to use your claws, why am I here?”

“Bait,” Isaac tells him cheerfully and Stiles wonders how much it would hurt if he punched a werewolf or two.

“Wonderful,” he says and looks over the river’s edge. There’s a little cave that he assumes the siren is dwelling in. “I assume werewolves are immune to a siren’s charm?”

“It’s like we’re invisible to them,” Jackson tells him and Stiles has to resist the urge to ask Jackson how he likes it. It’s probably not a good idea to have an internal squabble at the current moment. 

“And I assume you’ll be restraining me in some way?” he asks and Jackson responds by grabbing his arms and holding them behind his back. “Ah, that’ll do it. Isaac doing the dirty work today, is he?”

He gets a grunt in response which clearly demonstrates that Derek is rubbing off on his betas. He doesn’t even entertain the idea of asking why Allison can’t be bait or Lydia if banshees aren’t immune to sirens as well as werewolves. Instead, he just watches the river waiting for the siren to come out and try to kill him. Fun times.

When the siren does come out, Stiles nearly chokes on his own spit. He’d read about the pull of a siren, but he didn’t know it was like this. It feels like his skin is on fire and he can’t breathe.

He can’t make much out of what the siren itself, but it has abs of steel. He nearly drools just looking at it. The stubble and the clearly chiseled jaw and the piercing green eyes. It’s a walking epitome of tall, dark and handsome and Stiles can’t think straight when he looks at it.

Then again, he can’t think straight in general. He can’t do anything straight.

He clenches his eyes shut, barely aware of how he’s fighting against Jackson’s grip. It’s a bit easier to think when he’s not looking at the siren, but the pull is still there. It’s ludicrous. “Isaac! Can you kill it already?”

“Dude, that siren is a dude,” Isaac says, sounding like he's not sure what's going on. Stiles can’t hear any footsteps so he forces himself to turn his head away and open his eyes, looking at Isaac.

“Dude, do your unhelpful scarves block your brain cells or something?” he asks, his voice cracking as he fights the urge to look at the siren. He’s still fighting against Jackson’s grip and Jackson’s growling a little behind him. “Kill it already!”

“Okay then,” Isaac mumbles, looking shell-shocked and then he dives into the water, swimming straight towards the sirens. Stiles forces himself to watch Isaac’s figure in silence, trying to stop himself from struggling. It’s futile, but it’s a bit weaker now. He watches Isaac pull the siren into the river and he can barely breathe. 

It’s like a cord snapping when the siren dies and he blinks. The pull is gone and he feels free. He stops struggling and takes a deep breath, letting out a confused chuckle not knowing what else to do.

“You’re still not a good actor, Stilinski,” Jackson tells him and he lets his chuckle become full-blown hysterical laughter.

 

9\. Peter

Stiles is really considering just moving to Canada at this point.

Beacon Hills has to be a Hellmouth. Every other week there seems to be some new supernatural threat. They literally just finished dealing with the wendigoes yesterday after spending the past three months dealing with sirens, witches, witch doctors, vampires, enlarged mutant leeches, feral banshees, basilisks and all manner of creatures and now there’s a demon in Beacon Hills. He can’t believe this is his life.

And he knows that demons are not good and he’s definitely aware that he can’t use a baseball bat to defend himself against them considering when he tried, the demon just set fire to it and Stiles barely got out alive. He really doesn’t need a repeat of that or a repeat of Derek’s lecture that seemed more like Derek telling him he’s not allowed to die which he does actually agree with. Stiles does not want to die.

But he might take death over having to see Derek look like that again. He just looked so sad and worried and hopeless and vulnerable and Stiles just wanted to wrap him up in a warm blanket, give him hot cocoa and tell him everything is going to be okay. 

Everything is not going to be okay though because it’s a demon and he has absolutely no idea what the fuck to do with demons and no one else knows. They don’t know how to kill it which is just wonderful and is why when Stiles hears someone move around downstairs when he knows his Dad is at work, he panics and climbs into the closet. 

Derek would be proud that Stiles is actually listening to him. He takes his phone out, trying to shield the light away from the door as he unlocks it. He can normally type faster than anyone knows, but his hands are shaking. He doesn’t ever want to see that demon’s eyes again; it was like looking into hell itself. 

It’s in his room now, whatever it is. The footsteps barely make noise and that just makes it worse. He tenses and forgets how to breathe for a second as his brain scrambles.

“You can come out now, Stiles,” it says and he breathes out a sigh of relief. It’s only Peter which is bizarrely comforting considering how creepy Peter Hale actually is.

“I don’t know, you seem like a closet biphobe,” he calls out in a slightly hysterical voice. 

“You’re the one sitting in an actual closet,” Peter points out and Stiles has to give him that. There’s something creepily charming about him and it makes his skin crawl. “Besides, you know who my nephew is.”

He slowly opens the door with furrowed eyebrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I thought you were supposed to be the smart one,” is the response he gets from Peter who has that _I’m better than you_ smirk on his face and Stiles just sighs. 

“I wish I’d just stayed in the closet now,” he grumbles and rolls his eyes.

“Literally or metaphorically?” Peter questions with that same smirk and he just groans. He almost wishes it was the actual demon that broke into his house.

 

10\. Derek

Okay, that was a lie.

He definitely does not wish that the actual demon was the one that broke into his house because he’s currently hanging upside down watching the blood slowly trickle out of his body drop by drop because the actual demon broke into his house.

He didn’t even know that this was the kind of thing that demons did and he wishes he didn’t know it. But he’s not making any more wishes, not after this whole debacle. 

Hanging upside down is not fun. In any way. It’s actually very disorientating and he’s slowly forgetting how to breathe. The demon left a while back leaving him alone with his mess of thoughts and the building dread in his stomach.

His life is ridiculous.

It must have been a few hours since the demon first broke through his window and this is the slowest way something has ever tried to kill him. He’s fairly certain they’ve actually found an incredibly dim-witted demon. It’s not even attempting to be subtle. A smashed window and Stiles’ blood being spilled in his room is not exactly the signs of a friendly neighborhood chat.

At least it means that someone will hopefully come and save him soon. It can’t be that difficult to figure out he was kidnapped by something with enough strength to smash his entire window. Positives.

It turns out there aren’t that many positives to think about when you’re kidnapped by a demon.

He lets out a hysterical laugh as he thinks about it. Werewolves, demons, and kidnapping; that’s his life at this point. He can’t even figure out what point it got this weird. It wasn’t that weird when Scott first got turned. Seriously, what happened?

His laughter echoes, sounding like it’s bouncing around the room. That doesn’t exactly help with the hysteria, but he perks up when he hears a growl somewhere nearby. It could be something completely different and not from any of the pack, but he doesn’t really mind at this point. He just needs something to happen before he drives himself insane with his own thoughts.

He definitely perks up when Derek skids into the room, all wolfed out. He lets out a sigh of relief and raises his hand to wave weakly at the growly alpha. “Heya Derek, think you could help me out a little?”

Derek growls again and Stiles assumes that’s werewolf for _yes, Stiles, I’ll help you out_ since Derek’s at his side and slicing the rope within seconds. If Stiles was expecting to be placed on his feet or to just fall down when his bindings were gone, he was wrong. Instead, Derek’s carrying him out of the room bridal style before he can get used to not being upside down.

“Uh, Derek, buddy. Not that I don’t uh appreciate it, but can I just inquire as to why you’re uh holding me bridal style?” he asks and the question sounds way too much like a squeak. That is not what he was going for. “Seriously, dude. Like where are we? What’s going on? Where are you taking me? Why are you carrying me bridal style? How did you know I was here? Where is here? Where did the demon go? Why are you still wolfed out? Where do you eyebrows go when you wolf out? Why are you carrying me bridal style? What is actually going-”

“Stiles?” Derek asks him shortly, interrupting the spillage of his mounting plethora of questions out of his mouth.

“Yeah,” he squeaks, _again_. This is not what he’s going for.

“Shut up.”

And Stiles does. He promptly shuts his mouth and tries not to think about how many times he’s fantasized Derek carrying him bridal style over the last couple of months. He did not fantasize about it being after Stiles was kidnapped by a demon, but that’s just the semantics. It’s actually happening and he’s going a little insane.

He takes deep breaths as Derek runs through the twisting dark corridors of wherever the fuck they are and manages to somehow hold Stiles tightly against his chest even when he’s sprinting up the stairs. He takes them four at a time and Stiles pretends desperately that this show of physical strength isn’t so mouth-wateringly attractive that Stiles’ brain just about melts. He’s surprised his brain isn’t just a slush falling out of his ears at this point. He’s not even offended at being the damsel in distress again.

Derek doesn’t let him go when they get outside and just keeps running through the industrial estate near the preserve. They pass a bunch of abandoned factories as Derek runs them towards to woods and Stiles just lets him.

He’s finally put back down on his feet when they get deep enough into the woods that Stiles can’t see anything but trees. He coughs and wipes his mouth. Derek’s staring at him intensely and Stiles tenses up. “So uh thanks for that. Upside down kidnapping from a demon is not fun.”

There’s no response, to begin with, other than Derek’s scowl and very expressive eyebrows knitting together in concern. He growls and his fists clench at his sides as he steps toward Stiles. “I thought you were, I thought you were dead Stiles! There was so much blood in your room.”

“Yeah, but look, I’m alive,” he says weakly and Derek just growls again. His eyes are red now. Stiles takes a deep breath and leans against a nearby tree, still trying to regain his composure. He doesn’t even attempt to regain any of his dignity, that’s left somewhere lying on the floor in the abandoned factory. “Come on Derek, look, I’m not dead at all. No need to worry at all.”

“Stiles,” Derek growls and takes a step forward. 

“Derek,” he affirms, watching the wolf cautiously.

“You-” Derek starts, but he cuts himself off and takes a deep breath. Instead of continuing to speak, Derek looks at him softly and reaches out to tentatively caress Stiles’ cheek. He leans into the touch, his own hands finding purchase on Derek’s chest. Before he can think for a second, Derek has him pressed against the tree with his mouth covering Stiles’.

It’s a nervous kiss, to begin with, but Stiles wraps his arms around Derek’s neck and pulls him closer. It starts soft and like Derek’s asking permission and then it’s fiery and passionate and Derek’s biting his lip. It makes Stiles gasp, letting Derek’s tongue slip into his mouth. He loses all conscious thought at that point, just holding onto Derek and kissing him with everything he has.

“At least I don’t have to worry about when I was accidentally going to come out to you now,” Stiles mumbles when they pull away, only a little aware that it’s not a very romantic thing to say after a first kiss. Derek grunts a little, but he smiles at Stiles even if he rolls his eyes which are back to green now. “How did you know, anyway?”

“You’re not exactly subtle, Stiles,” Derek tells him with a smirk on his face. It’s Stiles’ turn to roll his eyes and smile fondly now. “I knew even before you announced you had eighty-three protons.”

“Wait, you got my chemistry reference!” he exclaims with an excited grin and Derek just smiles and pulls Stiles in for another kiss.

 

+

Stiles will eternally blame Scott for the torture he endures three times a week at lacrosse practice. He has no idea why he keeps showing up at this point, he’s not good at lacrosse. He doesn’t particularly like lacrosse either. He’s just there because Scott wants him to be.

The problem with that is that it doesn’t stop Stiles from embarrassing himself every practice and at every game. Especially the ones that Derek watches. He either trips over his own feet, throws the ball in the completely wrong direction or gets taken down by someone much stronger.

Like right now. He was supposed to throw the ball towards the net in one of the line-up-and-throw exercises, but he misses it by a good two feet. He can see Danny, who’s in goal, barely keeping the laughter in.

“Stilinski!” Coach barks and Stiles turns his head towards him dejectedly. At least he’ll get a reasonably creative insult. “You’re having trouble throwing straight!”

He replies without thinking, “I’m also having trouble being straight.”

Coach stares at him for a second before throwing a ball at him. “Just throw the damn ball, Stilinski.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! :)
> 
>  
> 
> come scream with me on [tumblr](https://island-of-asteria.tumblr.com/)  
>  
> 
> other potential titles include:  
> -Crystal Queer  
> -Where's my Oscar, Leo?  
> -Hell, Apparently  
> -Just Throw the Damn Ball, Stilinski  
> -83 Protons  
> -Old Persian Ducks  
> -Narnia Royalty  
> -Bi-son Burgers  
> -Dressed Like That?  
> -The Ultimate Brain-Blocking Power of Scarves  
> -The Dangers of Watching James McAvoy Movies  
> -Totally Last Season  
> -Acting Straight  
> -Dude, Stiles Likes Dudes  
> -Dude, I Like Dudes  
> -Demons Make the Best Accidental Matchmakers  
> -Basically Living in Narnia  
> -Harris' Heteronormativity  
> -Nearly Extinct  
> -Positive Mental Attitude


	2. +

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was surfing google for tumblr posts and then this happened

"Stiles."

He glances up momentarily from his laptop screen to acknowledge his Dad's presence in the room before turning his attention back to the screen where season four of Shameless is playing.

"Yo Dad," he says in a distant voice, focussing back on Fiona and her crazy life of mischief, terribly bad luck, chaos, and paradoxical dilemmas. It happens to provide a pretty great distraction from chaotic werewolf business if you watch something with even more chaos. Plus there are so many seasons he can binge through while Beacon Hill's supernatural quarter is calm and not promising an at least 60% murder guarantee.

"Your eyes are glued to the screen again," his Dad comments and he nods. He doesn't look up and his Dad just lets out a heavy sigh. "Isn't there some nice boy you can go out with instead of watching that tiny little screen constantly?"

Right, his Dad still doesn't know about the Stiles-dating-Derek-Hale thing. It's probably a good idea to keep him out of the loop, at least for now. Explaining the Derek thing would mean explaining why Stiles hangs around with Derek in the first place and that possibly includes explaining the supernatural thing and that could lead to death very easily so it's probably just safer to pretend he's still a lonely awkward teenage boy. That does ruin his comeback of his nice boyfriend not appreciating that though. 

He gives himself a second to panic about what to say before blurting out, "Fictional lands before prostate glands, Dad." 

John Stilinski just sighs at his son, backs slowly out of the room, and wonders where Stiles' everything came from because it sure as hell didn't come from him.


	3. ++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idek why i keep adding to this. i was just looking at tumblr posts again and this happened.

There are many people in Stiles’ life that he hates. Some are momentarily like the freshman who managed to explode a ketchup bottle while sitting at the table next to Stiles’ and ruined his favorite shirt today or the senior who accidentally hit him with a basketball. And then there are the ones Stiles will always hate like Harris for being a humongous dick or the guidance counselor who convinced him that taking French was a good idea.

If he’s being fair, it looked like it. Stiles is good at German and he’s unnaturally good at Spanish, but French just doesn’t go into his head. While he averages As in other languages without even trying, he has to work his butt off to scrape an A in French, but he _will_ get an A in French if it kills him.

Even if he has to lie on the floor doing his French homework during tentative pack bonding. He doesn’t worry that much about it since the real issue here is dealing with the easing Scott and Allison into the pack and stopping Erica from scratching someone who won’t heal (read: Allison). There’s a bit of emphasis on decreasing Jackson’s dickery levels and maybe knocking him off at least thirty pedestals stacked on top of each other. Stiles isn’t that important.

Although he doubts he’s not even at least distracting considering the facial expressions he makes when he’s doing French homework range from constipated to in immense pain to bored to exhausted to completely finished with everything on this metaphysical plane. 

“Having fun there, Stiles?” Peter asks cheerfully and Stiles just throws one of his spare pencils at him without looking up from his homework. The werewolf catches it before Stiles can really do anything, but the sentiment is there.

“Dude,” Scott starts and Stiles still doesn’t look up from his work. “Why do you look like you’re one bus stop away from asking the Grim Reaper for a shorter journey?”

He looks up then, but only to grin slightly at Scott’s metaphor. He glances around the room and almost all eyes are trained on him, especially Derek’s who is sitting beside Scott with significant space between them. He smiles at his boyfriend, before looking at the rest of them and replying, “Because I really want death right now.” He zones in specifically on Derek with a smirk on his face. “Or an orgasm, but I’ll take both since I’m doing French right now.” 

The groans he gets in response are as expected, but Derek just lets out a small laugh and smiles genuinely. He raises his eyebrows at Stiles expectantly. “Tu veux que je te donne la petite mort?”

“Dude, you speak French?” he asks with wide eyes and a slightly dropped jaw. Derek just continues smiling at him, but his eyebrows are telling Stiles that’s he’s an idiot since Derek did just speak French at him. Due to dating Derek Hale, Stiles is now fluent in eyebrow talk. “And oui!”

“Au lieu de cela, je vais vous donner une pomme de terre,” Derek tells him after pretending to consider it for a moment. Stiles rolls his eyes, but he can’t help but smile at his boyfriend.

“And now they’re flirting in French!” Isaac exclaims, interrupting them. Stiles turns to look at Isaac who looks exasperated, but still happy. It’s a nice look for him. “You guys are disgusting.”

“Oh hush Isaac, they’re flirting in the language of love, it’s adorable,” Erica says, nudging him with her elbow. It’s not particularly hard, but Isaac is still shoved into Jackson who just rolls his eyes. 

“Do none of you speak French? Allison, your family is French!” Lydia says and huffs. She rolls her eyes. “Unless potatoes have some unspoken romantic connotations in the gay community, I wouldn’t call that flirting.”

Expectedly, everyone turns to stare at the two of them which makes Derek roll his eyes. Stiles just grins and cocks his head to the side. “Well, there’s a slightly mythical band called The Gay Potatoes and then there're those Australian kids who made a gay flag out of potatoes, but I don’t think there’s anything specifically gay about potatoes. They’re not po-gay-toes.”

“He should break up with you for that,” Isaac mumbles under his breath, but everyone ignores him which Stiles is very glad about. He really doesn’t want Derek to break up with him because Stiles has had a crush on Derek for an embarrassingly long time and he really likes him. 

Derek is everything Stiles was expecting and more. He’s kind and caring despite his rough edges and he’s unbelievably attentive to Stiles. He makes sure Stiles is comfortable at every step and he’s pretty tactile for a guy whose general demeanor shouts ‘fuck off’. He’s also a really good kisser and he’s always happy to lazily make out with Stiles as long as he’s finished all his homework which isn’t that often because of French. He’s also got a bit of a possessive side which Stiles only pretends not to like. Derek knows because Derek is a werewolf and also not an idiot. He also looks like he came straight out of an extension to a Greek Myth where Narcissus falls in love with Derek because no one can resist Derek, even Narcissus.

So yeah, Derek really shouldn’t break up with Stiles.

“What question are you on, now?” Allison asks politely and Stiles just groans. He glances down at his paper and groans again.

“Quatre-vingt,” he says and sighs tiredly before letting out a croaky laugh when he realizes how it translates. “Blaze it.”

Derek snorts at him, Lydia huffs but she laughs and Peter throws the pencil back at him which makes Derek growl at his Uncle of Stiles’ behalf and Stiles doesn’t even try to hide his smugness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! :)
> 
>  
> 
> so i know literally no french so this is google translate. i think they translate to  
> Tu veux que je te donne la petite mort - You want to give me the little death?  
> Au lieu de cela, je vais vous donner une pomme de terre- Instead, I will give you a potato.  
> Quatre-vingt - Eighty
> 
> La petit morte/the little death is a French idiom for orgasm.  
> Pomme de terre is techincally potato, but it literally translates to apple of the earth  
> Quatre-vingt is four twenty.  
> im hoping these jokes werent lost but who knows
> 
>  
> 
> come scream with me on [tumblr](https://island-of-asteria.tumblr.com/)  
> 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :)
> 
>  
> 
> come scream with me on [tumblr](https://cosmo-k-i-d.tumblr.com/)  
> 


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